


Sunlight Beauty

by Skullszeyes



Series: Eating The Dead [17]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Time Travel, Angst, Ben Hargreeves is Dead, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Flash Fic, Fluff, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Kissing, Love, M/M, Male Protagonist, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person Limited, Past Drug Use, Protective Ben Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 09:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Klaus loves his new life, and thinks of his old and he's afraid if his present isn't real.





	Sunlight Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this for sometime, but I wasn't sure what kind of tone it should have. I didn't add too much, but it's enough for me rn since it's 2am. :) And I might as well get it off my list of TUA fics to eventually write and post. LOL.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciative.

He had a good sleep. It was bordering on amazing. The blankets were soft, the pillows even softer, and the bed didn’t smell weird. The curtain was slightly held to the side by a clip, letting in warm sunlight. He turned on his side, closing his eyes and smiling contently.

When was the last time he had a good night’s sleep? When did it matter for him to even consider sleeping was good in the first place. The thoughts didn’t plague him, didn’t glorify those terrible people slinking in the shadows when he walked along a dark street, or even when his _friends_ turned off the light in their house, and he was stuck under a thin blanket, hoping those hands that were getting closer didn’t touch him.

He wanted to keep those whispers small until he was ready to face them. Except he wouldn’t ever be ready, it would be the end of the world, and he’d still bat them away and find the falling stars more enjoyable as the ticking of his life comes to an end, all of it inevitable, and maybe then he wouldn’t have to be scared anymore.

There were days when he thought he was done with it, but it was only a lie he continued to tell himself. One that was spoken every few weeks while he stared in the mirror after he emptied out his stomach, the sickness of his practice burning his throat, and the shaking was a ricoheted of every ill decision he has ever chosen in a lifetime of weakness.

He had grown accustomed to it. A wishful thinking, staining imagination, and he cared for it as much as he could in the most dramatic of ways. And days like today were the worst, and he’d chose the taste of bitter coffee on his tongue, and sometimes even the icy rain when he could pretend he wasn’t crying.

It was the knife that cut deep and continued to dig and dig, and he still wrapped his fingers around that pain, the affliction of self-destruction, and he couldn’t help hate himself for everything he has lost, and everything he could never return.

In the mirror when he speaks to the one beside him, to the one who tells him to get up, has no reflection to bare witness of when he had lived.

Younger, younger, younger...dead.

_Get up, you have to get up, no one’s going to help you! You have to help yourself! Get up!_

He’d catch the tone in his voice, the helplessness, and sometimes he’d see it, his hands going through his arms and then he’d scream and cry. And after he was done, he’d continue the mantra as if it was all a dream, endless and surreal.

_Please, get up. I can’t help you, you have to get up._

And to stop hating himself, he’d listen with a sick dizziness, he’d grip the side of the sink, and pull his aching body to his feet and stagger his way from the bathroom. He’d find his coat and rip it off the one who’d try and steal it, and he’d leave, but he was always afraid he’d return, even in its inevitability with he’d follow his gluttony’s whispering.

Klaus used to cover his face, wiping away tears, and repeat over and over, "Please don’t hate me, I’m trying, I’m trying. Please don’t hate me."

And it was a miracle to find himself in a happy place, if he believed, it would be this kind of heaven, and he’d stay there forever. No more sickness, no more dizziness, or throwing up in toilets, or waking up in occupied beds with people’s faces blurred from his memory.

He didn’t need to stagger away from this home. He was safe. He was finally safe, a place he can cuddle under the blankets, and cry with happiness he didn’t think he could possess.

“You’re awake.”

He turned over, stretching his arms upon the bed and smiling at _him_. “Please, don’t be a dream.”

Laughing, the sound of it divine and captivating. “Why would I be a dream?”

“Because I don’t deserve someone like you, I deserve someone who doesn’t care about me, who hates me, and despises me, and feeds me rot.”

He expresses perplexity by his furrowed brows, and he decides to climb upon the bed and hover over him with a gentle and patient smile. “You don’t deserve someone who hurts you, you deserve as much peace as everyone who lives. Some people don’t get that.” He leans down, his lips barely upon his when he says, “you deserve happiness, Klaus, you deserve love. And I don’t mind offering that up to you.” And he kisses him, and it’s unlike anything he has ever felt, ever tasted, and he never thought he’d have because he always tasted poison, and it corroded his insides since he could see the dead.

“I love you,” Klaus whispers against him.

And Dave returns that same gentle and loving smile, “And I love you. Come on, I made breakfast.”

He slides off the bed and gestures for Klaus to follow, and when Klaus sits up, he smiles wide at Ben who is leaning against the wall, smiling in return.

“You deserve this, Klaus, don’t let it go.”

Klaus slips from the bed, he blows Ben a kiss, “I don’t plan too.” And he leaves the room to follow Dave and to the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast.

He never did try to look for love, he didn’t think it existed, but he found it and it was beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a AU that Dave was never in the past and he never died. Just to be clear. :) But Ben is still dead, unfortunately. Maybe I'll make a fic of him alive! 
> 
> Also, I've been having family issues about drugs, and it's been draining me of wanting to write since I also have to take care of three of my nieces who are all under the age of 10. So, more TUA fics, and updates, will take some time until this is resolved. 
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed.
> 
> Leave a comment and/or kudo. :D


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